Memories
by AJCrane
Summary: A 24-year-old Dick Grayson is found in Metropolis, but something is terribly amiss. All he can remember is the day his parents died.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** _References to_ Batman Court of Owls _and_ Nightwing: Trap and Trapezes _along with other Batman comics and Batman sources before the New 52.

/

Memories

By AJ

Part 1

Memories are an interesting thing, linear, but fluid. They can flow like water or get stuck like mud. They can be clear as crystal or dark and opaque as an underground cave. They can be lighthearted and bright or oppressive and heavy. They can be good or bad, they can be brand new and as ancient as time. Yes, memories are a part of our existence in the world. It is often how we define who we are. When those memories are gone, we lose a part of ourselves.

A young man wandered the city in a daze of confusion. Where was he? This wasn't his home. His home was back with . . . no they were dead. He saw them fall. Tears fell freely remembering the terrible and frightened look on their faces and the sound when they hit the surface below. The anguish in his heart was unbearable. Images unbridled came to him, but they were confusing. He saw the images of a man in a mask, his eyes at times hard and unyielding, at other times haunted, a reflection of his own pain. He seemed to know those eyes, but the name escaped him. He didn't know where he was and how he got there. All he could remember was the night his parents died. His knees buckled and his back slid along the wall he fell against. A sudden hiss and hitch in the sound of his voice showed there was much more than just emotional pain he was feeling. There was physical pain as well. He pulled up his knees and crossed his arms, resting them on top, his head buried. His body shook with raw emotion; despair filling him so completely he didn't know anything more. He softly cried for help, but he didn't know if anyone would hear him.

/

Clark Kent was late for work. Perry wasn't going to be pleased. Walking toward the Daily Planet, Clark's unique hearing picked up on the sobs and despairing sounds what sounded like a child in desperate need. The person was also calling for help. Clark pinpointed the sound. It was several blocks away, farther than any normal person could hear. He followed the sound until he found a person sitting on the sidewalk, his face buried in his arms with his knees drawn up. Clark observed that the young man's clothing was tattered and torn, and there appeared to be dark stains on the fabric. The man's jacket covered the rest.

"Are you all right?" Clark asked. "Can I help you?"

The young man lifted his head and Clark recognized him despite the tears streaming down the young man's contorted face.

"No one can help me. They're dead."

"Who's dead?"

"My Mom and D-Dad," the young man continues to sob.

Clark was puzzled. The young man was acting as if the incident had only happened moments ago when in fact . . . "Is there something I can do?"

"I don't know where I am," the young man wailed. "I'm . . . lost. I want . . . Poppy."

Poppy? Who was Poppy? Looking at the young man, Clark had a far better idea. He knew whom to call, but he didn't know if he could risk it right here. The young man seemed in a very bad way. He didn't know how he got here. There was nothing on the news wire if him being missing.

'He usually tries to keep things like that private so as not to alert others of that fact. That might cause chaos among those he doesn't want to know'

Clark could easily lift the young man, but he pretended to strain at the weight. "I'll help you. I'll take you to a place where you can rest. And I'll let your folks know."

"But . . . I don't have anyone else," the young man said. "No, that's not true." The young man's face screwed up. He said in a child-like voice and his brow knitted together as if he was concentrating. "I see a face . . . B . . . Br . . . Bruce?"

"Bruce?"

"My guardian. Yeah, that's it . . . He took me in . . . just a few days ago. Oh boy he's going to be mad."

"What's your name?" Though Clark knew, he wanted to see if this young man knew. Something wasn't right.

"Dick . . . Um . . . Dick Gr . . . Gr . . ." The young man shook his head. "Gray . . . Grayson."

"How old are you, Dick?" Clark said.

"Ten." Answered Dick.

'Oh boy,' thought Clark. "Don't worry, I'll let Bruce know, you're here. What makes you think he'll be mad? Did you run away?"

"No . . . I . . . don't know. I don't remember," Dick started crying again.

"Easy now. It's going to be okay. We'll get you back home. I'll take you to my place and then I'll call Bruce."

"Who . . . who are you?" Dick asked.

"Oh sorry. I'm Clark Kent. I'm a friend of your guardian, Bruce Wayne. It's a good thing I found you instead of someone else."

Clark called a cab and both of them went to Clark's apartment. Clark guided the young man to sit down. The young man's eyes were wide like a child's, which disturbed Clark greatly. Dick Grayson had been to his apartment a dozen times, visiting Metropolis with Bruce whenever they had business to conduct, but this, the way Dick was behaving worried him.

"Why don't you lay down and I'll call Mr. Wayne."

Dick Grayson did as Clark suggested. He was soon asleep from the emotional turmoil his mind was under. His thoughts were about Bruce, sure that he would be mad at him, a child's worry, not the worry of a full grown man.

Clark waited until Dick was fully asleep. He first called the Planet and told them he was sick and would probably not be in for several days. That at least would give him time to investigate on what was going on. Dick had ended up on the streets of Metropolis, believing he was that 10-year-old who lost his parents. How he had ended up that way was a mystery worthy of someone else that he knew, but he would have to tread lightly. He would demand more than he could tell him. This was a territory he certainly was not familiar with and he was going to need all the help he could get.

/

Bruce was beside himself. His and Dick's relationship was still somewhat stained after their last fight. No, the last truth they both faced, Dick had been right, his words hitting the mark like an arrow piercing his soul. And like a fool, he struck out. He never was good at apologizing. Then Nightwing was being accused of murder. It was a turning point in their lives they were forced to face. Then this business with the computer components being stolen had thrown another wrench in their lives. And now it had been weeks since Dick had disappeared. Both him and Tim searched through Gotham, Bludhaven, and even going to Jersey City, but there was no trace of his son.

Damian was fit to be tied. The rage that 11-year-old felt was barely kept in check. It concerned the boy's father greatly. He threatened to go to Wayne Tech and tear the place apart looking for his big brother. Bruce had to smile at his son's way with words, but he also had to remind Damian that no one at Wayne Tech would know about Dick being taken. And with the passing weeks, Damian brooded even more, becoming silent and refusing to come out of his room or go to school. It was all they could do to get him to even eat, let alone sleep. Damian was just a reflection of their frustration and worried emotions.

Jason Todd, the some time anti-hero, some time mob boss, reveled in the fact that the Bat was showing some emotion at the loss of one if his precious sons, but at the same time, the jealousy that he felt for Dick Grayson ruled its ugly head. Secretly, he hoped that the "Golden Boy" would never be found, so he could swoop in and take his place once more, but then he remembered the times when Dick would be there for him. 'I should be blaming Ra's al Ghul for this, but he's probably not the one involved. Neither am I. If Golden Boy's dead, I'll probably get blamed for it. Maybe I better start hoping Bruce finds him.'

Bruce and Tim Drake continued to search for Dick, but there was no trace of his eldest missing son. There was one thing he could take comfort in at least. No one had reported on finding a body fitting his description. That meant Dick was still alive, but Bruce didn't know where, and as time slipped further away from Dick's initial disappearance. The likely chance of finding him even alive was becoming more remote. He did not want to have to declare his eldest son dead, but it was looking bleak as time passed.

Where could Dick be? He had gone to Wayne Tech's manufacturing plant to investigate about stolen computer components. He managed to place tracking devices in some of the boxes. They were able to catch all but one of the thieves. It turned out the thieves were not the ones behind the caper. They had been working for someone else, and had refused to reveal whom that person was, and Dick had disappeared at the same time, going after the remaining thief. Where could he be? Had he been taken out of the country far from their reach? He had hoped that Dick could have somehow found a way to let them know that he was in danger, but no signal had come. The tracking device that Dick had placed in his belt was found along the docks along the Jersey shore.

"Anything Tim?"

"No, Bruce. I've been checking and rechecking. There hasn't been anything on the airways or whispers from the underworld."

"Master Bruce," Alfred approached. "Master Clark Kent is on the phone. He wishes to speak with you."

"Not now, Alfred."

"I believe you will want to take this call."

"Alfred . . ."

The look in Alfred's face broached no argument.

"Very well," Bruce relented. He walked over to the desk and picked up the phone, pressing the line that connected to the Wayne Manor line. "Bruce here, what is it Clark? If you're looking for a scoop or interview for the Daily Planet . . ."

"That's not why I'm calling," Clark interrupted, his voice very serious.

"Why are you?"

"I've found him, but there's something you should know."

Bruce's heart skipped when Clark said those first words, then it dropped like a stone and his face paled when he heard the rest of what Clark was telling him. "I'll be there within the next few hours." He hung up the phone, letting the emotions he felt wash through him. "Alfred, call the airport and have a jet standing by. And call Leslie. We may need her services."

"Sir?"

"Clark found Dick. I'm going to bring him home."

Continues with Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Memories

By AJ

Part 2

As Bruce traveled to Metropolis his thoughts went back six weeks ago . . .

"Dick I don't want you to do this."

"You know I'm more suited for it," Dick reminded Bruce. "No one knows me over there. It's been ages since Dick Grayson has been in the news. And that particular Wayne Tech plant has only been around for three years."

"I could send in Tim," Bruce said.

"No offense to Tim's abilities, but the area we're looking at has nothing to do with the software, it's the components. I helped you build this equipment and you need someone on the inside who can recognize what it is that's being stolen. You can't go in, unless you can disguise yourself as a computer geek. Bruce Wayne isn't supposed to be big on those things."

"And you're big on all of that," Bruce sarcastically conceded with a slight smile, trying not to give away the pride he was feeling and the angst. "Just be careful."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Dick answered, though in truth he had some trepidation. They didn't know whom they were dealing with, and going in cold he would have to be extra careful.

"Before you go, take this," Bruce handed Dick a small bat-shaped disk.

"A bat tracker," Dick observed. "I'm way ahead of you there," Dick opened his hand to reveal five tracking devices in his hand.

"I wasn't thinking about the equipment," Bruce said under his breath.

"I guess one more won't hurt," Dick conceded. He placed the tracking devices in a small pouch hidden in his belt. Taking any of his Nightwing gear was out of the question. Where he was going, the manufacturing plant was outside of New York, in Jersey City, no one would know him and he wanted it that way.

Dick went upstairs to his room and packed a couple of suitcases. He packed his older looking clothes to give the impression he was down on his luck. A hiring letter from Lucius Fox and the chief of personnel gave him the means to be at the plant free and clear, working as a security guard. It was the perfect cover. He knew what components to look for that could be stolen. His training under Batman and working as a police officer in Bludhaven gave him unique skills that no other security guard had. And that made him the right person for the job.

Dick was just finishing his packing when Bruce walked into his room.

"I'll have Alfred drive you to the airport. I wish I could take you there myself."

"And what would that look like," Dick said, smiling. "Hopefully, I'll only be gone long enough to learn who's been stealing computer parts to create their own Cray. I'll be sure to plant the tracking devices the same day I start. Um Bruce . . ." Dick had his suitcases in hand waiting for Bruce to move from the doorway.

Bruce moved aside and let his eldest exit his room. Dick stopped for a moment and looked him in the eye. "It's not like when I went off to college. I will be back. You know after all this time you can trust my word."

The last statement stung, reminding him of their last argument, the one that drew . . . . Bruce wanted to believe his son, but a feeling of foreboding danger crept into his soul.

/

Bruce arrived at Clark's apartment and knocked. Clark opened the door and let his friend in.

"Where's Dick?" Bruce asked looking around and getting right down to business.

"I moved him to the bedroom. He's still asleep. I got a chance to examine him under his clothes. He's lost some weight and he has bruises all over his body like he had been punched or struck several times with a blunt object. His wrists were rubbed raw from what looked like shackles. His ribs were broken at one time and both shoulders were dislocated as well. His back looks like someone was trying to strip it of its flesh. Whatever he's been through was pretty nasty."

"You said both his shoulders had been dislocated?" Bruce asked. "Sounds like he had escaped from somewhere that he had to crawl through. Also if he was tied up, possibly in a straight jacket, dislocating the shoulders help in escaping. Houdini learned that trick. Dick also learned that from the circus. He taught it to me. Came in handy quite a few times. I'd like to look in on him." Mentioning the shackles around his wrists and about his back worried Bruce more. They probably chained him somewhere and beat him with a blunt object, which caused the broken ribs as well. 'They were trying to break him,' he thought. 'It was obvious they kept him alive, but for what purpose would have to be determined.'

Clark led Bruce to the Master Bedroom. Bruce observed that Clark had removed Dick's shoes, belt, jacket, and what was left of his tattered shirt. He also spotted the bruising on Dick's arms as well as the raw marks on his wrists. He glanced at Dick's back and hitched in a breath. The lashes looked red and infected. Bruce sat on the bed and brushed his hand through Dick's unruly hair. It had grown out since he last saw him. 'He's going to need a haircut,' he thought.

Bruce continued to sit next to Dick, watching him sleep then he said while staring into his son's sleeping face, "Tell me more about the other problem that you told me over the phone."

"He remembers you, and possibly Alfred, your butler. He didn't know me, but he clearly remembered the death of his parents. For him, he believes it's only a few days after you took him in as your ward, before you officially adopted him."

"Was there any head injury that could account for the memory loss?"

"He did receive a nasty blow to the head, but it looks like an old injury, at least a few weeks old, not days. The cut has healed. May have happened when whomever took him prisoner. It wouldn't account for the memory loss."

Bruce sat for a moment thinking on what Clark said about what Dick remembered. No, he wouldn't do that, unless . . . There was one way to test it, but he didn't dare risk waking his son. He would just have to trust his judgement, which it's been hard to do ever since their argument. "Before Dick went off to college I taught him some mental techniques to quadrant off certain memories in order to protect vital information so it wouldn't get lost, especially if he found himself caught and alone. It involves going through a trance and setting up blocks and triggers. The information had to be considered so vital that he must have set up several such layers. The deepest layer must involve the investigation we've been working on with Wayne Tech. Each subsequent layer he must have added to protect other information he did not want his abductors finding out."

"I've never heard of such a technique," Clark said.

"I learned it in my travels when I was younger, before returning to Gotham City. It's similar to setting up folders on a computer. Each folder contains a certain number of memories. Each is locked and cannot be opened without a trigger word or event or both."

"How do we get him to remember?"

"That's just it. The memories have to be triggered and not just any old way. Saying a word or telling about the event won't unlock the memory. It may mean re-enacting the event or creating the right setting, but there is a danger."

"What kind of danger?" Clark asked.

"Unless you know the person well, if you don't follow the right order of those memories or events, it could trigger something else, and his memories could be completely erased.

"This isn't a computer hardrive we're talking about here," Clark said.

"I know that," Bruce snapped back.

Clark looked at Bruce's face and saw the anguish he was going through under the surface and excused the outburst. "Bruce, what happens if something goes wrong?"

"Mentally, and emotionally," Bruce brushed his fingers along Dick's jaw-line. "Dick could remain as a 10 year old boy, and every event and memory up to the present day that defines who he is will be gone forever. And we will never get those moments back."

Continues with Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

Memories

By AJ

Part 3

Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside were several white pills. He pulled one of the pills out and slipped it into Dick Grayson's mouth.

"What are you giving him?" Clark questioned, his eyes narrowing. He felt somewhat protective of the young man, ever since he met him when Dick was Robin. He thought it had been foolhardy of Bruce to bring a kid into his crime fighting world, but learning about the boy's past and learning it had been Dick who insisted and what he would have done if Bruce had not intervened left Clark wondering who else would bring a kid in next. Even so, Dick had been a unique individual, and Clark watched him grow over the years into a fine young man, and a powerful crime fighter, just like Bruce. Clark realized he no longer had the right to question Bruce's reasons.

"Something to keep him asleep. I want him to remember his most recent time in Metropolis as a bad dream. Any new memories added at this stage, when he thinks he's ten years old, is going to confuse him, especially when they don't mesh with his original memories."

"How long will he stay asleep?"

"Forty-eight hours," Bruce said.

"That's one powerful pill."

"Developed it with the help of a friend. It's a rendition of the bat sleep. It lasts longer. Come, we have to prepare."

"Prepare what?"

"The retrieval of Dick Grayson's memories," Bruce would have preferred to call him his son, but it would reveal too much of the anguish he was feeling. Bruce reluctantly left Dick sleeping in Clark's room.

"I need to return to Gotham. This is what I need you to do," Bruce explained exactly what he needed Clark to do to assist in retrieving Dick's locked memories. He also needed to return to prepare the rest of the household. Tim and Damian would have to be temporarily cloistered away until those memories dealing with each of them were unlocked. Aunt Harriet had died the summer before Dick left for college. Her absence could easily be explained. Bruce hoped he was up to the task. Dick was not going to make it too easy for him. The triggers, at least the first few had to be associated with events that were between him and Dick during his early years living at the Manor. Those would be the easiest to remove. And he was certain that Dick was counting on him to retrieve all of his memories.

The first thing he needed to do was take Dick to see Leslie while he still slept so his injuries could be treated. Without treatment his injuries could hinder the process. His back and wrists was the worst. Seeing the torn and bloody uniform shirt of a security guard was bad enough. He didn't know how Dick endured it. The one question still plagued him that they would have to find answers to was who were the people responsible for harming him.

/

"He what?" Damian frowned. "Pathetic. If I had been the one, I would not have gotten caught and that thief would not have gotten away. And I am not dealing with a 10 year old Grayson."

"Damian," Bruce chided. "None of this is Dick's fault. I agreed to let him undertake the mission. Logically, he was the right choice. He did manage to plant five of the six tracking devices on the computer components we believe they were after. Two of the boxes were stolen along with other components. We recovered most of the items, and stopped most of the thieves responsible, but one box is still unaccounted for, along with one thief. The diversion they set allowed that person to escape. Dick went after that last box and that person, but someone must have recognized him. No ordinary security guard would go after a single box of stolen goods, let alone a thief. Right now, he doesn't even remember any of that. And he won't remember you and Tim. I have to help him regain those memories."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Tim asked.

"You and Damian will have parts to play when each layer of memory is recovered, but it has to be done carefully."

"What about Jason? Shouldn't he be involved?" Tim questioned.

Bruce didn't answer at first. That had been one of he and Dick's worst periods. When Bruce brought Jason home, Dick didn't understand. 'Or maybe he understood too well. Rather than discuss it with him . . .' Bruce shook the painful memories from his mind. Dick was going to have to live through all of that a second time. It wasn't going to be easy. He remembered the biting words that Dick had thrown in his face.

"You adopted him, but you didn't adopt me. You replaced a ward for a son. And I'll just bet you'll give him Robin, too. I came back . . . Now it doesn't matter. It's obvious you're looking for a better soldier. I was NEVER a soldier. I kept my oath. You broke yours. Don't bother to show me out. It's obvious I'm no longer wanted here. You've got a son now."

Dick left before Bruce could explain or even give him the good news. Bruce had planned on talking to Dick first in his study, giving him the news that the adoption he had been working on for Dick had come through, but Jason had seen Dick first and introduced himself as Jason Todd-Wayne. Bruce didn't blame Dick for being upset, but to throw the fact back in his face hurt them both.

'The look on Jason's face was pure shock,' Bruce thought. 'I hadn't planned on Jason being Robin, but when Jason questioned me about what Dick said, I suddenly found myself revealing more than I intended. I wanted Jason to be a normal 12 year old, maybe just live the life of any normal kid, but that didn't happen. I still had hopes that Dick would return and pick up where we left off. To be honest, I didn't want Jason being Robin, but he insisted. I was going to take as much time as I did with Dick to train Jason, but Jason was impatient. I knew it was too soon, but I also figured it would teach him that he needed to wait. Watching all the old footage of Dick, I realized Jason had become jealous of him. He wanted to outdo him at every turn, but Jason just didn't have the patience or the skill level that Dick had developed in such a short time. Dick was a trained acrobat and aerialist, and had been for six years. Training Dick came easy. Jason didn't have those skills. And when Jason started fighting with me to go out on patrols, rather than putting my foot down, I relented. He disobeyed more orders than Dick ever did. Eventually that willfulness got him killed. If only I had spoken to Dick, but those memories of Jason were few, if non-existent. He did learn about Jason's death and he truly seemed sorry it happened, but by then Robin was gone and Dick had taken up a new name, Nightwing. I couldn't ask him to return and resume being Robin. Besides, I blamed myself for Jason's death, and talked myself out of ever having another partner, until Tim came along. The pain was too great, more for me than for Dick. Perhaps those memories won't be so pain-filled. Even so, Dick is going to go through one hell of a ride. I just hope he's going to want to come back.'

"Bruce, what are we going to do about Jason?" Tim asked, again.

"Let's leave Jason out of this for now. You and Damian are going to have to leave and stay in Gotham at Dick's apartment until this process has been completed. Right now, Leslie is upstairs taking care of him. He's been badly beaten and he needs medical attention. And I don't know how I'm going to explain that to a 24 year old who has the mind of a 10 year old. Just don't kill each other while you're waiting this out."

"All right, Bruce," Tim said. "We'll doe our best to cooperate and stay put."

/

While Bruce and Tim had been talking, Damian crept up the stairs in the batcave to the Manor. He could hear voices. Dr. Leslie Thompkins had existed Dick's room with Alfred.

"Make certain this ointment is placed on his back every day. I've applied ointment to both his wrists and back and bandaged both. The bandages will have to be changed twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night."

"Very good Dr. Thompkins. I shall see you out."

"I am getting too old for this," Dr, Leslie Thompkins sighed. "Tell Bruce he needs to think about expanding his medical knowledge base. If something were to happen, and I mean really happen where major surgery needs to be performed, you need a good surgeon standing by. I'll see if there is someone I know who can be trusted. I know the risk is great for revealing too much, but he's got to trust more than just you and me for his medical needs."

Damian waited until both Alfred Pennyworth and Dr. Thompkins went down to the front door before Damian bolted up the stairs and down the hall to Dick's room. He peeked inside to see Dick lying on his left side. He moved into the room as silently as a ninja. He spotted the bandages to the man's wrists and on his back. Damian's eyes narrowed and remembered the punishments his Mother would dish out when he didn't do something right or when he would cry out.

"That was wrong. Do it again!"

"I'm trying, but it's hard," Damian whined. "The sword is too heavy."

Talia slapped her son across the face and he fell to his knees.

"I said again, and without complain."

Damian started crying from the hard slap he received and the harsh words his mother gave him.

"There is no crying in our work. You must harden those emotions."

"Why Mother?" a tearful Damian asked when he turned his face toward her.

"You are like your father. He was weak, not the man I thought he could be. On your feet or I shall really make you cry."

His Mother had been a cruel heartless woman. Though he had been trained to kill and even had killed, he took no pleasure in it. His mother hoped to erase the small bit of compassion that he kept hidden in his soul. She had nearly succeeded until she went too far and killed his Nanny for trying to protect him from further blows. Then he heard his father talking to Talia one day. She didn't know he was there, hiding under a large desk. He had been seven and his curiosity got the better of him. He peeked out to see a tall man dressed in a bat-like costume.

"You must harden that heart if you are to be father's heir, my beloved."

"Compassion isn't weak, Talia. It sets us apart from those who only want to destroy. And you know my feelings about being Ra's al Ghul's heir."

"Why have you come?" Talia asked.

"To know if the rumor is true."

"That the child is yours? No. And I certainly wouldn't tell you if he was. The child is mine and I shall do with him as I please."

She had lied. Before, his Mother told him about his father being Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and that he was heir to his fortune. She also told him that he was Batman. And now she just lied to her father.

It was that lie that would influence him later in wanting to stay with his father. His mother wanted him to kill Bruce Wayne and take over his fortune, but there were others ahead of him, and one of them was a twenty-four year old sleeping in a bed that should have been meant for him at one time. Damian remembered Dick Grayson taking care of him when Bruce Wayne had disappeared before he could truly get to know him. Slowly the spark of compassion that Damian hid, even from himself re-emerged. Though he tried to keep it hidden from the rest, he didn't need to keep it from this man, whom he considered to be his big brother.

Damian moved to the bed, climbed up next to Dick Grayson, and placed a small hand on the sleeping man's cheek.

"Please, come back to Father," he said in a small, quiet voice. "He needs you. And I need you, too." Damian though wasn't aware that someone was watching him.

Bruce had discovered that Damian had left the cave. He found him in Dick's room, sitting by his brother. He watched as his son brushed Dick's face with a tenderness that he wasn't aware that the child possessed. It reminded him that while he had been away Dick had somehow brought out a part of Damian that no one else could reach. And he realized that he had been doing just as Talia wanted him to do, and what Dick had so poignantly struck home with his words. He had tried to protect himself from feeling anything, afraid of getting hurt, and so afraid to love those close to him. Now, more than ever, he could lose one of the most important people in his life. He vowed to change that as soon as Dick Grayson, the one they all knew was returned to them.

Continues with Part 4


	4. Chapter 4

Memories

By AJ

Part 4

"Is everything prepared?" Bruce asked as he slipped on an old uniform and cowl. The music from the circus played in the background with the sound of applause.

Dick started mumbling in his sleep.

"Where did you get the recording?" Clark asked as he placed the sleeping aerialist on the ground near the old circus wagon.

Batman didn't answer at first. "We were filming the circus for the charity event. Bruce Wayne was supposed to get up and make an announcement on how much money had been raised, until the tragedy occurred. I acquired a copy of the film."

"Is it wise for him to see this?"

"He won't be seeing it," Batman said. "He just needs to hear it."

"To have him live through that again . . ."

"It's necessary," Batman forcibly interrupted. "Do your part. Just make sure he doesn't see you. Both moved into the shadows. Batman reached down and turned the volume up on the recording, keeping an eye on the young man as he slept. The pill he gave Dick earlier should have its desired effect.

The applause grew louder. The sound of the ringmaster's voice, Pop Haly came clear and crisp as if it was that very night. "And now that he is safely on the ground, please give a big hand to the youngest Flying Grayson!" The applause came again and Dick reacted in his sleep and he briefly sat up waving his hands in the air, grinning at the invisible crowd though his eyes remained closed. He then heard the ringmaster announce that it was his parent's turn and his head tilted upward as the music continued . . . "EEEEEEEEEE" Hearing the screams from the audience, Dick cried out. "Oh . . . No . . . MOM! DAD!"

Haly's voice, the voice of the ring master, cried, "They'll be killed!"

The music faded and other sounds reached Dick's ears. He woke to find himself on the ground outside Pop Haly's circus wagon. He looked around somewhat confused and he rubbed the left side of his head. He must have wanted to see Pop Haly for some reason and fell asleep. He then heard someone talking.

"Too bad about 'that accident' Haley!"

"Yeah! You should have taken our tip!"

"You murderers! All right. I'll pay. But only so no one else gets killed."

"They murdered Mom and Dad!" Rage filled the young man, his face contorting into a scowl. "I'm going to the police!" Just as the ten-year-old Dick Grayson had said back then, so did the twenty-four year old, reliving his past.

"No son, not yet."

Dick felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from running away into the darkness. Dick turned to see a figure in the moonlight. He was wearing a costume with a bat shaped symbol on his chest. Their eyes met. He had seen those eyes before.

"What . . . Who . . ."

"I'm the Batman!" the man said, his hand open and inviting. "I want to help you get those killers. But you can't go to the police. Come with me and I'll tell you why."

Hearing the words, something seemed to open in Dick's mind. This very scene seemed familiar, as if he had lived it before. He didn't know why, but something in the man's eyes told him long ago to trust this man, that he would help him, help in ways that he had not known back then. He just needed to follow and once again, find out. Just as before the rage of his parents murder filled him and he somehow knew. A slight pounding in his head started, but he pushed forward in his resolve.

"I . . . I know . . ." Dick rubbed the left side of his head.

"Come with me," Batman said again, this time leading Dick to his car. They climbed inside and just as before, Dick pleaded with the Batman about finding the people responsible for his parents' deaths.

While in the batcave, three people listened in on the conversation.

"Who played Haly and the two men?" Tim asked.

"Tt. Superman of course. Even I can recognize that he's mimicking the three men."

Tim ignored Damian's jab at wanting to verbally spar with him and concentrated on Dick."I've never heard Dick talk like that. He's filled with so much rage, at least not until . . ." Tim recalled his own encounter with Dick Grayson in this very cave and how he tried to tell him that Batman needed Robin. Dick grew angry that day, grabbing him by the arms, telling him how he had gone through hell with Batman and because of him. Tim recalled his very words.

"Don't lecture me about him until you've cared for him and loved him as long as I have. And the first thing he taught me was how to be a man . . . not how to be a kid all over again."

It was a sobering experience for Tim that day. Dick had misunderstood his words, but later they had become crystal clear. Right now they were monitoring Dick, where he was "being that kid all over again." Damian interrupted Tim's thoughts with his usual disdain and view that others were weak just because they didn't follow what he believed should be the rule.

Tt." Damian scoffed. "He should have killed the men responsible. They deserved to die."

"Both men did die, Master Damian, but not by Batman or Dick Grayson's hands. Remember, it happened fourteen years ago, long before you were born. He will remember that once his memories are unlocked. Quickly now, we must prepare for the next stage, and you two must not be here."

All lights in the batcave were shut down. In Dick's earlier life the batcave looked totally different than it did now. For appearances sake, they had to make certain that Dick did not see the cave of today.

"I don't see what the purpose of this is," Damian complained.

"Master Richard must see the batcave from when he was your age, Master Damian. If he sees the cave as it is today, his mind may not be able to adjust."

After setting everything up, Alfred took Damian and Tim to Dick's apartment in Gotham.

"I'm not staying here with Drake."

"I don't like the arrangements either," Tim replied.

"It must be done. It will only be temporary. I need to return to the Manor to help monitor Master Richard. Please, do try not to kill each other until I return."

Tim and Damian looked at each other. "Did Alfred just make a joke?"

"Tt."

As Alfred was taking care of Tim and Damian, Batman was arriving in the darkened Batcave just as he remembered it. He noticed that Dick hesitated and once again placed a hand on the left side of his head, his brow furrowing as if he was trying to focus. Was he beginning to remember? Batman lit a candle on a table. And without hesitation, Dick raised his hand, as if in a trance.

"Swear that you will fight against crime and corruption . . . and never swerve from the path of right."

"I swear it." Dick's eyes blinked as if he had woken up from a dream. "Bruce, what's going on? Have you found Zucco?"

'Well, he recognizes me as Batman. That's a start. I knew my hunch was right. He had set several memory blocks.' Before Dick asked his question again, Batman answered, "No, not yet, but I'm getting closer. Have you been studying and working on your training? You should be in bed, it's late."

The suggestion had its desired affect. Dick gave out a very wide yawn. "I am tired. My head's hurting, too." Dick rubbed his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Chum. I can give you something for your head. We can continue training tomorrow. You can show me some of your acrobatic stunts on the trapeze."

They moved through the dim light of the batcave. Batman changed out of his uniform and back into regular clothes, becoming Bruce Wayne once again. They moved up the stairs and into the Manor. Bruce led Dick into the kitchen and poured Dick a glass of milk.

"Here, for your headache," Bruce handed Dick a small white pill. "You need to drink a lot of milk for your bones and muscles," he added remembering those early years. Had he really been that preachy, that chatty? He had to scoff at himself. Somewhere along the way, those days had changed, whether they were for the better, he wasn't sure. He found he also missed those days. Teaching Dick had been a joy that he had not realized until they were gone. Bruce almost didn't notice when Dick finished the glass of milk and his eyes grew heavy. Bruce was quickly catching his eldest son in his arms and carrying him up to his room. Now they would have to see just how much Dick remembered and what was the next trigger going to be. It was obvious they still had several layers they had to break through. At least they would have another forty-eight hours to set things up.

They still didn't know who it was that stole those computer components. By now, they would have found who was responsible and they would be sitting in a jail cell, but all that information was locked inside Dick Grayson's head. Right now, the stolen computer components had to take a back seat. Still holding onto his eldest, Bruce sat in a nearby chair and cradled his son, reliving memories. He just hoped that the next stages went off without a hitch.

Continues with Part 5


	5. Chapter 5

Memories

By AJ

Part 5

Figuring out the next trigger was going to be harder than it looked. With the help of Superman, the cave was rearranged to resemble the old configuration when Dick was in his preteens. After Dick had been with Bruce for three years, he and Dick had discovered a lower level of caverns that enabled them to expand the batcave, creating vital areas that had been lacking in the original space.

While Superman was moving some of the heavier pieces he asked Bruce, "What is so significant about Robin Hood?" His hearing had picked up on the soft murmurs that Dick was making in his sleep up in the Manor.

"Robin Hood? I almost forgot. That came from our conversation after Dick had been training for six months. We were deciding on a secret identity. He liked Robin Hood."

"What do you think will be the next trigger? Clark asked.

"I think I may have an idea," Bruce said. "I will need help with it."

"How long do you think this is going to take?"

"We've broken through approximately three layers already," Bruce replied.

"Three? How many layers has he set?" Clark asked astounded.

"I don't know," Bruce answered. He was secretly pleased. It showed that Dick continued to practice this particular mental technique on a regular basis. 'He must have practiced setting blocks with triggers and releasing them until he could do them in his sleep. 'Setting three layers wasn't easy. Setting more probably only got harder for him. I don't know how he managed it by himself. He probably got so far and knew he was going to need my help. He also must have set a mental message to find help at the topmost level, specifically Clark. He would be able to hear and recognize his voice. He knew I would need Clark's help as well, though I might not ask myself. Clever lad.'

"Bruce, you better get some sleep while you can. I can monitor Dick."

"I need to send Alfred to check on Tim and Damian. I'll sleep in the medical bay. We still have work that needs doing down here. Thanks Clark. I could not do this without you." And Bruce found that he meant it. Perhaps having Dick confront him about his feelings hadn't been all that bad. He found himself revisiting memories, and a lot of them had been good ones. Even when he tried to lay down to sleep, his mind continued to play out those memories, memories that defined who he was, not just to himself, but to others as well. It reaffirmed why he became a crime fighter. He would look at Dick and remember just how much fun they would have. Though those times seemed simpler and less dark than in more recent years, there were times Bruce often questioned why he continued to do this, and Dick would be there as a reminder that he did not want another child to suffer the way he had suffered, the way Dick had almost suffered. With the death of Jason, Bruce realized that maybe he was fooling himself, that having a partner really didn't matter. Dick had moved on, too, determined to make it on his own, but it was Tim who convinced him that over the years Batman and Robin had become something more.

This night though, he wasn't thinking about what Batman and Robin meant. Mostly, he started thinking about why he became a father, ever since he brought Dick back from Metropolis . . . No, that wasn't correct, ever since Dick had disappeared for those six weeks. He had been absolutely terrified, terrified that it was going to be a repeat of what Jason had gone through. And when Clark found Dick alive, he almost didn't release the breath he had been holding. Now with his son home, and they were working to help Dick remember, he could almost indulge in the question of why he became a father, not just to an orphaned circus performer, but to all the boys in his care. It seemed to be the natural progression of not only wanting to pass on what he knew, but Bruce realized he didn't want to be alone. Marrying someone might have naturally taken care of that need, but at the same time, she would have to be a woman who could keep up with him. She would have to understand his life style choices. Being a socialite by day and a crime fighter at night, most of the heiresses and socialites wouldn't understand. One other did, Kathy Kane, but she was long gone. Having Dick in his life early on, also made him realize that being a father was just important as being a crime fighter. Yes, Dick had been a joy to raise, until . . . well, no one ever said raising a teenage son was easy.

Bruce's thoughts turned toward his other sons. For Jason, he became more of a mentor than a father. Thinking about Jason, it was evident that his second son really didn't want a father. His experiences of a father came from having one that was abusive, and that made it that much harder to reach him. Jason had been a difficult kid, and he did not make it easy to love him, but Bruce found that he did, though at times he wondered did he love Jason or did he miss his old partner. He insisted that Jason dye his hair when he went out as Robin, since his partner had black hair. Why didn't he allow Jason to be himself? He never quite figured that one out or maybe he was just denying the fact that he missed Dick, but Dick Grayson had grown up and it was hard to face that fact. Jason never really got the chance to prove himself worthy to wear the Robin uniform. Of all the Robins, there were times when Jason had been brutal, not the jovial wisecracking punster that Dick had been. Breaking rules, and hurting people, because he believed they deserved it was the way Jason handled the roll more often than not. Bruce tried to talk Jason out of those moods . . . More like lecture him. It's no wonder Jason turned his back on everything he had been taught. Though Jason tried to do some good, it often was clouded by the harm he would commit.

'I will always regret not being able to get through to him, that there really was someone who loved him. He was troubled beyond what I could do for him. Perhaps some day he will see that what I tried to do, I did out of love. And perhaps he will learn someday that killing isn't justice. Killing is easy. Not crossing that line is hard and takes more courage not to.'

Tim had his parents, until recently, at least within the past four years. He found that he also loved him like a son, and Tim proved himself time and time again as Robin that he had been worthy to carry on the name. Tim had been Robin the longest and reestablished what Batman and Robin meant. They weren't just people wearing a costume and fighting bad guys, they were a symbol. They were better together than without each other. It was a hard reality that even Bruce had to learn.

And now he had Damian. Within a few short months of Damian coming to live with them, he barely got to know his son when Bruce was thrown into the past. He would be forever grateful for Dick being there, not only to help with Damian, but for putting on the mantle of Batman for the second time to keep the symbol alive, and now Damian was Robin, something that Dick had explained to Tim and to him that Damian needed, because without being Robin, he might still be the assassin that he had been trained to be, killing his family and everything that it stood for.

His thoughts returned full circle to Dick once more. Dick had proven his worth even more, becoming the father figure, and Dick proved he could handle it just as well and sometimes even better. 'Dick would make an excellent father,' Bruce thought. 'Perhaps when this is all over, I'm going to have to talk to him about that. It's one thing to be there when a father cannot, but Dick needs his own family to pass on what he knows. Don't want those acrobatic skills to go to waist. I can't believe I'm thinking about becoming a grandfather. Grandpa Bruce, has a nice ring to it. Still, none of it will happen if we can't get Dick to remember.'

Bruce's mind finally drifted off to sleep comforted in the knowledge that his best friend was looking after his son.

/

"Bruce! Alfred!" Dick raced through the manor, not finding either. 'He's probably down in the batcave,' he thought. Dick headed to the study just as Bruce was emerging.

"Dick, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I . . . I had a nightmare. It was so real."

"Come over to the living room and tell me about it."

"I . . . I thought Two-Face . . . but then . . . I realized it was only a dream, then I dreamed about Alfred . . . Then I remembered he . . . he was killed three months ago trying to save us. Where's Aunt Harriet?"

"She's on a trip," Bruce lied, picking up on a significant clue from Dick's words. Dick's memory age must be about 13 years old. That was when we thought Alfred was killed. And the incident with Two-Face happened within his first year as Robin. 'Which means we are getting closer. He now remembers that he's Robin. Soon after Alfred was killed Dick's Aunt Harriet came to live with us, but went on a trip three month later. She was called away for a few days and I also got an emergency call from the Justice League. I took Robin with me for the first time. I better let Clark know, but first . . .' Bruce returned to the moment at hand. "You better get back to bed, Dick. You have school in the morning."

"It's a holiday," Dick said. "I have spring break."

"Of course, I forget. Do you want something to drink before going back to bed?"

BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ

"That's the bat phone!" Dick declared.

Bruce and Dick re-entered the study. Bruce picked up the bat phone.

"Batman here," Bruce answered. "No. Robin is with me."

"Is it Commissioner Gordon?"

"No, actually."

"Who is it? I thought only Commissioner Gordon was the only one who had a connection."

"You remember me telling you about the Justice League?" Bruce prompted.

"Yeah," Dick answered, his eyes growing wide.

"Well they need my help," Bruce said then continued to talk on the phone. "What is it Superman? We'll meet you at the Hall of Justice."

"We?"

"You're coming with me this time."

"I don't remember . . ." Dick once again hesitated rubbing the left side of his temple.

"Are you all right Chum?"

"It's nothing. I seem to have a slight headache."

"I'll give you something for it in the batcave before we leave."

Bruce opened the bust, and Dick threw the switch that opened the bookcase revealing the secret entrance to the batcave. Bruce glanced over at Dick as they slid down the bat poles. Dick was wearing his old Robin uniform with the shorter cape. The longer cape did not appear until after high school. The headache concerned Bruce. Either Dick was fighting the return of his memories or they were treading on dangerous ground. It was odd that Dick seemed to be focusing on those three events, two of them that produced the most nightmares. Dick continued to have nightmares whenever they had to deal with Harvey Dent a.k.a Two Face. Only after Harvey's death did the nightmares stopped. Alfred was another issue. Both he and Dick had taken the 'death' of Alfred hard. Dick's Aunt Harriet had helped to relieve some of the burden, but things just weren't the same. Harriet Cooper, though a nice woman who cared for her nephew and even for Bruce after a time, she could be a bit of a gossip.

'It was difficult keeping the secret from her,' Bruce thought 'She tried all different ways to discover what was going on, rest her soul. She's been gone for seven years now. Thank goodness Alfred's death turned out to be false.'

As for going to the Hall of Justice and meeting the members of the Justice League, Bruce wasn't quite certain where the trigger on this one happened. He knew it had to do with being there, but for some reason, the event was escaping his memory. Why would the Hall of Justice be important? Perhaps something might occur later that he was missing. In the mean time, the headaches that Dick was experiencing after each block had been removed worried Bruce. Something else was going on. There may be more to the head injury than Clark thought. And Leslie hadn't even checked Dick for any head injuries. Dick should not be experiencing any headaches at all. Releasing the blocks should be as simple as turning off a switch.

'Clark did say it looked to be an old injury,' Bruce thought. 'I didn't examine it closely myself. I may have to. We have a couple of hours before we reach the Hall of Justice. Superman will take care of the rest before we get there.'

Bruce looked over at his son and found him to be asleep in the co-pilot's seat beside him. He couldn't help smiling, remembering how easily Dick would fall asleep on long trips. His thoughts though continued to return to the head injury. Had Dick been hit on side of the head as he was setting the blocks? Bruce kept noticing how Dick pressed his left hand to that left side. Could he have been hit more than once? He would have to check Dick out more thoroughly. If the head injury wasn't taken care of the deeper they go to the release Dick's memories, the more severe the headaches could become, even life threatening. The thought caused Bruce's heart to drop like a stone into his stomach. They would have to tread very lightly from now on.

Continues with Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

Memories

By AJ

Part 6

Batman and Robin arrived at the Hall of Justice to find Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash already present. Wonder Woman and the Flash gave each other a questioning look at seeing Robin, a grown Robin, hiding behind Batman as if he had not been to the Hall of Justice before. His eyes wide like a child's. Wonder Woman found it humorous and she wondered if Batman was playing some kind of prank. Oh well, if he was, she'd play along.

"Where's Green Arrow?" Batman asked.

"He's not available," Superman said, which was true. The original Green Arrow had arrived late with his partner Speedy. Speedy had become Arsenal and later Red Arrow. Dick and Speedy had become friends and it was those two who started the Teen Titans. If one of the triggers involved him and those memories, that was going to be a tricky situation to solve. There was no Speedy any more, and all the original Teen Titans were grown men and women, crime fighters in their own right with new names. He would have to figure out something else to be able to release that trigger.

"What's going on? Superman didn't elaborate," Batman stated.

"Actually, you are in luck. There is an emergency," Flash quipped. "Who's this?"

Flash had been briefed by Superman regarding Nightwing's memories being blocked since he arrived first, but it wasn't Nightwing that stood behind Batman. There wasn't time to brief Wonder Woman. She would just have to pick up on their cues and figure it out on her own.

"This is Robin, my partner," Batman introduced.

"Batman, are you sure it was wise to bring a 'kid' into this . . ." Wonder Woman said then gave Flash a smile and winked.

"I'm not a kid," Robin spoke up for himself with a pout.

Batman couldn't help but nod. At least Flash was playing his part well, even right down to the emergency. Flash had used the same exact words he used when he met Robin the first time. Even Dick was playing his part without realizing it. Wonder Woman though seemed to think this was all humorous.

"What's the nature of the emergency?" Batman asked, remembering that the emergency they handled had been some kind of hostage situation that required a delicate touch.

"There was an earthquake in Chili and several people are trapped," Wonder Woman stated, becoming all business. "Plus, there's been looting and the police can't handle it all."

That was not the emergency that he remembered that happened ten years ago when Robin visited for the first time. There must be a real emergency that required their attention. Regardless, in order for this to work, Robin would have to be left behind like last time. "I'll take the batplane," Batman said. "Robin, you stay here and monitor our efforts."

"Yes, Batman," Robin replied.

"I think Robin should come with us. He might be able to help with keeping any hurt children calm," Wonder Woman suggested, giving Batman a wink.

What was Wonder Woman thinking? Didn't Superman briefed her? Bruce didn't want Dick coming with them with his condition. They needed to follow what happened years ago in order to release the block.

"I know I can help Batman," Robin stated, but then, "No, wait I . . . I . . . I . . ." Robin pressed his left hand to the left side of his head, and his face contorted with the sudden onset of stabbing pain. "No . . . something's . . . not . . . right. This isn't . . . how . . . I remembered . . . " A very adult Robin said fighting whatever it was that gave him extreme pain at that moment. The block had apparently been released, but something was very wrong. Robin started to collapse when Batman caught him before hitting the floor. He picked him up and cradled him close.

"I was afraid this might happen," he said to Superman.

"What happened?" Wonder Woman asked, confused as to what was going on.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get you briefed in time," Superman said. "Nightwing blocked his . . .

"That's not Nightwing, that's Robin, a much older Robin. What is going on Batman? What kind of joke are you playing?" Wonder Woman interrupted Superman.

Batman glared at Wonder Woman than at Clark.

"I apologize, Batman. There wasn't time to brief her."

"Brief me?" Wonder Woman questioned.

Batman gave an audible sigh, "Nightwing's memories are blocked, but it was ROBIN whom you met the FIRST time. And that's what he remembers being right now. And it was the hostage situation we faced, not an earthquake. Without realizing it, you may have confused those memories with this very real emergency, and may have endangered Robin's life."

Wonder Woman blanched at Batman's words. "Batman, I'm sorry . . . I . . . "

Batman continued not listening to Wonder Woman's apology for the moment. His thoughts were strictly on his son. "Superman, you take the others to handle the emergency. I better stay with Robin. I need to examine him to know why he's experiencing headaches and why they are getting worse."

"Very well. We'll return as soon as possible."

Wonder Woman and Flash stared at Batman as he carried the unconscious Robin, holding him close.

"I . . . I didn't think he was serious," Wonder Woman said. "I thought it was some kind of Joke."

"When have you known Batman to pull a prank," Flash said. "And you chide me for not being serious enough. He is very serious, apparently dead serious when it comes to Robin."

Batman carried his charge to the infirmary while the rest of the Justice League left to handle the emergency. The infirmary was larger and contained the necessary equipment to assist the crime fighters if someone was injured. Batman laid Robin on one of the examination tables. He moved the x-ray machine in place. He turned Robin's head to the side after placing under him a plate containing the film. He placed a lead apron over Robin and took the image. Within moments, the film was developed and Batman moved Robin to a more comfortable bed. He then looked at the x-ray and confirmed his suspicions. Dick had sustained a hairline fracture above the left ear. It was a fracture that would need time to heal. The memory blocks must be associated with the injury he received. And that meant when each block was removed it would cause him severe pain, perhaps even sending Dick into a coma or worse.

Guilt filled Bruce. He should have pressed Leslie further on the head injury, but she had been concentrating on the injuries to his back and wrists and neither realized just how serious Dick had been hurt. He thought about their last argument and the continued strain their life had been, ever since he brought William Cobb back to the batcave. He had lost something. Faith? Trust? He had always trusted Dick to do the right thing, then finding out about Cobb . . . Suddenly he started to see Dick differently . . . something he had never done before. Dick continued to point out the obvious, that "Talon" was just another bad guy to him. And then Nightwing was being accused of murder. Finding one of Nightwing's eskrima sticks at the scene was very damning evidence, but that was all they had. Even so, Bullock wanted Nightwing taken down despite proving his innocence. Bullock didn't trust anyone who wore a mask regardless whether they were trying to do good. Even so, all of that still didn't let Bruce forget what Dick had said.

'I wanted to talk to Dick about what happened, but as always we end up solving other people's problems, putting Gotham first. I hoped to talk to him after the incident of him being accused of murder. Then the computer components were stolen. I still have William Cobb comatose in the batcave, and I don't even know what I'm going to do to resolve that.' Then Batman's eyes narrowed for a moment. He thought about the batcave and once again the argument that he and Dick had, the argument had also centered around William Cobb, but ever since Dick had been returned he couldn't recall whether Cobb was in the batcave. 'Clark would have asked me about the man. My mind has not been clear ever since . . . I didn't want Dick going undercover, but he had been right. I had to prove to myself that I did trust Dick, that his words meant something. I wanted to tell him that I not only heard what he said, I understood. I had been thinking differently about him, as if he would betray . . . How could I have been so wrong.' Now he didn't know if he would ever get that chance.

"Forgive me," Bruce said, as tears fell down behind his mask then slipped out from under it. He wept like this before years before, for a man who saved his life, a man whom most never paid any mind. His name was Small, but in the end he lived large, and Batman had granted his dying wish to see the man behind the mask. And now his son was facing a fate that could end his life. Dick could still die from the headaches and the stress his mind was undergoing, and Bruce might not ever get the chance to set things right between them.

Superman returned to find Batman holding his son's hand in one and his other resting on Robin's chest.

"Batman?" Superman approached with cautious worry.

"I'm failing him," Batman said.

"No, Batman," Superman replied. "You've never failed him. You've always been there when he needed you. And he's been there when you needed him."

"Not always. There was a time when we said terrible words to each other," Batman admitted. 'The most recent just three months ago, but I did more than just . . .' he thought, brushing his fingers along a scar that Dick now had that Batman had caused.

"He has done something that no other should have had to do," Superman said. "He didn't have to do it. You could have refused on that very first day. Why didn't you?"

Both knew what they were talking about without having to mention it. It was something that he had shared with his closest friend knowing that he could trust him with that knowledge. "Because he wanted it so much," Batman replied.

"And since then, he has shown nothing but trust and he's kept your secret all these years," Superman said.

"My secret . . ." Batman scoffed at first. "My secret." Batman suddenly sat up straighter as a revelation hit him. "That's it."

"What's it?"

"Why didn't I see it before now. We've been doing this piece meal. There has to be ONE trigger that will release all of the blocks. It would have a cascading effect and I should have realized it."

"I don't understand, what should you have realized?" Superman asked.

"The answer," Batman replied, but did he dare even admit it to himself. It was the only way. Batman removed his cowl, knowing that the words he was about to utter had to come from Bruce Wayne.

"See that we're not disturbed."

Not all of the other Justice League knew his secret, even to this day. Superman was the exception. Each found out the others' identity and swore to keep the secret. Just as Dick swore to keep Bruce Wayne's secret without any prompting from Bruce. And that wasn't all. Dick knew a secret that went far deeper than any of his other sons knew. It was a truth that even Bruce could not escape from no matter how much he tried. Dick knew how vital it was to protect even that. For behind the facade that was the Batman was a man who loved too deeply and feared loss above all else. Also, if he ever dared show any emotion toward the people he cared about, his enemies might use them against him. Keeping secrets, Bruce knew how to keep secrets, not only from those he cared about, but from himself as well. Dick knew the truth. He confronted him with it and Bruce nearly took Dick's head off with a backhand that sent him flying across the room. Only Dick would dare to do so and risk such a blow. Bruce spied the scar that graced the handsome face one more time. It was small and unassuming, and he wondered what excuse Dick was saying about that particular scar, a scar that Batman and Bruce had inflicted on his eldest son, a strike where he drew blood. It tore a hole in him more than the physical pain he inflicted. Dick never said anything about it. He didn't even wipe the blood from his face when he left to continue on his own case, the case where he would be accused of murder. Dick had been right, he hit the mark with his words just as his body hit the mark every time he flew.

'I have been defining my role from the past, not because I chose to be what I am. I also tried to define, Dick's role from a destiny that never happened. He was supposed to be a Talon. Why isn't he? The Court Owls live by secrets, subterfuge, and lies. Dick has always spoken the truth to me,' he thought. 'He has always been honest while I've been the one to keep secrets from him, trying to protect him from harm, but have I been doing more harm than good? He has kept very few secrets of his own and yet he always seems to know my deepest and darkest ones. Perhaps it is time to reveal the one secret that has always been safe with him. That takes total trust. Jason didn't put his trust in me. Tim worshiped Batman and Robin, but he didn't always trust that I wouldn't go too far. And Damian, he doesn't trust any of us, not fully. His Mother saw to that.' Bruce stared into the face of his comatose son as what he was thinking would reach him. 'You Dick, you trusted me from the very beginning. And even when we have our differences, you continue to trust me to do what is right and to tell me when when I'm being . . . You took an oath and turned it into a sacred vow. You kept on fighting when I turned my back. I'd forgotten what that means.'

Bruce leaned down and whispered into Robin's ear. "It's Bruce, my son. I hope you can hear me and forgive my foolishness. I know the answer." Eight little words that Dick had shown with his actions that proved his worthiness. Eight little words that were as much an oath as the oath that Dick Grayson had sworn those many years ago in a darkened cavern with nothing but a lighted candle on a table between them. Eight little words for him that were so sacred Dick would die first than reveal what it was that he knew. Eight little words that Dick has uttered on several occasions, and meaning every word. Eight little words, "Trust me, your secret is safe with me."

Continues with Part 7


	7. Chapter 7

Memories

By AJ

Part 7

After no response from Robin, Batman carried his fallen partner to the batplane to return to Gotham City. He would never forget the sad look on Superman's face.

"I will come by later and help you with the batcave, getting it rearranged and back to its present configuration."

Batman nodded his approval.

Wonder Woman was near tears when she tried to approach him, but Batman turned away. He didn't want to confront her now.

Flash turned away so Batman wouldn't see his stricken face, but he hoped that he understood. No one wanted to be reminded of another time, five years ago as Batman carried Robin to the batplane. Even so, they could not help be reminded of what Batman had lost before, but back then, he had been carrying the battered and bloodied body of Jason Todd. Batman entered the plane and lay Robin down in one of the secure sleeping cots. He added them when the plane would have to travel overseas and the trip was going to take at least a full day. After securing his partner, Batman moved to the cockpit and plugged in the coordinates to the Batcave's hidden hanger. He allowed the plane to take off on its own while he went back to sit with Robin. He removed Robin's mask and then removed his cape. Those he folded and placed them in a secure locker. Dick Grayson lay oblivious to Batman's ministrations.

As the batplane soar on, Batman checked its course to see that everything was spot on. He made sure that there were no other aircraft within his vicinity and instructed the plane to avoid all air traffic just in case. He wanted to give himself time to get Dick Grayson undressed from his Robin uniform and back into his own clothes. If he did come to . . . No . . . When he came to from the coma-like state, and if those words worked to release the rest of the locks on his memory, Dick would wonder what had happened. And he might think it strange that he was dressed in his old Robin uniform. There was also something else he needed to do.

"Alfred pick Tim and Damian up from Dick's apartment," Bruce said.

"Yes, Sir," Alfred replied, picking up something in Bruce's voice though he knew Bruce tried to hide it. "Master Bruce, is anything wrong?"

"You might say that," Bruce said, 'Good old Alfred, leave it to him to know that something was wrong.' Bruce changed the subject before his emotions would betray him further. "Call Leslie. Have her meet me in the batcave and prepare for surgery."

"Surgery? For whom, Sir?"

"I think we both know."

"How? What happened?" There was alarm in Alfred's voice.

"Let's just say we missed something and leave it at that."

"I shall call her right away, Master Bruce."

"Thanks Alfred."

Bruce removed his cowl as he signed off. He moved back to sit with Dick, once again placing his right hand on his son's chest, feeling his heartbeat.

"It's been a long time since you and I have been in this position," he said. "You and I have been through so much. You've given me total trust and have always told me the truth, even when it hurt. Why haven't I been able to do the same? Maybe I've seen too much corruption, too much hate in this world. 'Trust me, your secret is safe with me,' you said, soon after I revealed the man behind the mask. You knew what I meant, and I didn't just mean that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. Bruce Wayne also had a mask. You knew, because you saw far deeper than the rest. And you took that secret with you, and I never really appreciated that. I'm proud of you. Please, come back. I need you. I seemed to have lost myself. I went through hell and back. Hell I went through time, seeing just how evil forms and corrupts. You and I have been in this position so many times of late, testing, posturing, and in the end it comes down to having faith. You were right even then, when I gave you the mantle the first time. I didn't have faith. Faith implies giving up something. And I wasn't willing to do that. It's not that I didn't have faith in you, I didn't trust myself in making the right decision. I was second guessing myself rather than just trusting. I thought Gotham needed someone . . . I should have realized there was someone, someone who put total trust in me. You said you'd die for me. I just hope you will live for me. I don't know if I can raise Damian alone. You've become my conscience. When does the son become wiser than the father? Without you . . . I don't know if . . ." Bruce couldn't finish. He allowed his emotions to surface . . . to take over . . . letting the tears fall while the batplane flew home.

Arriving back at the batcave, his composure once again under control, Batman was met by Alfred and Leslie. They tried not to show their concern as they saw Bruce carrying Dick close to his chest. He also carried an envelope in one of his hands. Bruce moved to the medical bay and placed Dick on a gurney. Without another word he approached Leslie and handed her the envelope that contained the X-rays. He then moved over to the computer without saying another word.

After looking over the X-ray, Leslie moved over to Bruce. "What made you suspect that something else was going on?"

"He was having headaches. Clark said the injury looked superficial, but the headaches were getting worse. I took a chance."

"Bruce, I deeply apologize,' Leslie stated. "If I had known something like this was going on, I would have pulled him in."

"There's no need, just do what you can."

Bruce watched as Leslie prepped Dick Grayson for surgery. Alfred assisted. The wound to Dick's head wasn't that severe, but the hairline fracture still needed repair and any swelling was going to take time to go down. The surgery only took an hour.

"I would like to talk to you about that surgical sealant you developed," Leslie stated. "Most surgical sealants are for tissue. This glue that you developed seemed to be filling the crack in bone."

"It's similar to the epoxy used for medical devices, but it's been adapted for bone," Bruce stated. "With the number of broken bones I've received over the years, and the time I've lost in recovery, I thought it best that something of this nature was developed."

"Bruce, are you telling me that I have just used an experimental treatment on your son? That is unethical. What if something goes wrong?"

Bruce didn't say anything, but handed Leslie a stack of papers he had prepared. He waited until she looked them over.

"I don't understand."

"Human trials were last year. Not a single patient suffered from side effects or rejection. And that's due to the fact that a component of the glue is the chemical make-up of bone itself. It is being released for wide distribution this year."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Leslie questioned.

Bruce gave a sideways smirk, "You haven't been coming to the Board meetings, either at Wayne Enterprises or the Medical Review Board at Gotham General."

"Point taken."

"How long before Dick will be able to resume his normal activities?"

"Two weeks," Leslie stated. "Stress to him that he will not be allowed to jump off buildings and he must wear a helmet at all times."

"I will do my best, but you know how he is,' Bruce said.

"Yes, like father like son," Leslie observed. "And if he doesn't I'll sedate him for at least a week. Now what about his memories returning?"

"We were making progress until this . . ."

Leslie could see the stress in Bruce's face. "Keep me informed."

"I shall take Leslie home," Alfred stated. "I've moved Master Richard up to his room."

"Thanks, Alfred. I'll check on him in a moment," Bruce said then went to shower and remove the rest of his uniform. After changing Bruce moved up the Dick's room to keep watch. His mind kept working on the problem at hand. He kept returning to the unanswered questions as to who had done this and how did Dick escape if he had been shackled, his memories blocked. And had he been right when he whispered those eight little words that Dick has spoken not only to him, but to Clark Kent and to whomever Dick knew. A noise out in the hall caught his attention.

"I did not, Drake," Damian argued. "It was your own stupidity . . ."

"Enough Damian," Tim growled back. "I'm too tired to argue."

"Boys," Bruce said, forcefully without raising his voice.

"Father."

"Bruce, how's Dick?"

"Asleep."

"Has he remembered . . ." Tim didn't finish the statement, his growing fear evident on his face.

"Not yet," Bruce said looking back into Dick's room.

"Bruce, something's wrong. Please tell us."

Bruce remained silent surprised that Tim could read him, though he was reminded that Dick could also read him like a book, and knew more about the man's emotional state than . . .

Damian surprised Bruce by placing a hand on his father's arm, a gentle gesture of reassurance that seemed out of character and yet was not lost on Bruce.

'Dick probably taught him that,' Bruce thought. The thought of Dick not being around to help him with Damian nearly caused Bruce to break a second time. 'No. Dick's got to remember.'

"Father, please."

Bruce gave out a resigned sigh. "Dick has a hairline fracture on the left side of his skull. It's been repaired . . ."

"NOO!" Dick cried out at that moment.

Bruce raced into his eldest son's room to see him thrashing about.

"I WILL NOT! LET ME GO!" Dick's voice was filled with rage. He was fighting something in his dreams, a nightmare.

"Dick!" Bruce grabbed Dick's arms to try to restrain him.

Dick lashed out, socking Bruce in the jaw, thinking he was fighting the enemy in his dreams. The force of Dick's punch was nearly as powerful as Bruce's, which surprised even him. Bruce had never been on the receiving end of one of his sons' punches, not since they were younger and when they were in training. Damian and Tim rushed in, each grabbing an arm to assist in restraining their brother.

"Let me go! I won't be your Talon!"

"Talon?" Damian questioned. "What does he mean?"

Tim's eyes went wide. He knew, but was afraid to even speak about it out loud.

Bruce moved in at that moment to place a hand on Dick's cheek. "Dick, Dick. Snap out of it. Your home."

Dick's eyes snapped open then focused on the face that was right in front of him. "Bruce?" His eyes narrowed. "How . . . what?"

"What do you remember?" Bruce asked.

Dick hesitated for a moment, thinking. "Everything," he answered.

"I guess those eight little words worked," Bruce said quietly with relief.

Then all hell broke loose as the doors to Dick's private balcony shattered as something large came through. It knocked Bruce aside where he flew across the room, falling against a bookcase. Tim and Damian both launched themselves at the large imposing figure, but it brushed them aside like paper. Dick's eyes became wide and filled with terror as he tried to scramble out of the way, but in his weakened state from being tortured and starved he wasn't fast enough. The large figure grabbed him, pulling Dick into his arms then launching itself out the broken balcony doors and into the night.

"NO!" Bruce scrambled up from the floor, rushing toward the balcony and watched helpless as his son was taken from him for the second time.

In the course of the struggle, when Bruce fell against the bookcase, a small leather bound book was dislodged off the top, hidden from view. It was covered in dust. It fell open to a page that had been constantly turned to at one time. Tim saw the book fall and his eyes fell on the passage and he could not help but shudder when he read it.

**"Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head."**

To Be Continued with

**_Where Does Loyalty Lie_**


End file.
